


Penny Dreadful Season 4

by Under_Stone



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Animal Abuse, Frogs, Multi, Not so original OC, Plot, Plot Induced Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:10:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Under_Stone/pseuds/Under_Stone
Summary: When "The End" occurred, Ethan, Malcolm, Victor, Henry, Florence, Renfield, and all the others thought it truly was the end. The End of Vanessa, the end of Lucifer, the end of Dracula,But what was this end the beginning of?A continuation after Season 3.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Critiques, concerns and questions are always welcome on grammar, OOC characters, inconsistencies, suggestions etc. Be as brutal as you like :) I can be careless at times especially when I'm trying to just write out an idea. This is my first longish fanfic (It'll be ~27,000 when complete). And I might revise chapters after I've posted them. 
> 
> I do have some ‘original characters’ but they are based on classic literary characters with major/minor deviances. They will all be noted in the chapter of which they are introduced. Poems used throughout chapters aren't mine and are credited at the end. Nothing is really mine besides the storyline -I guess.
> 
> I'll add warnings as I go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor goes home to resolve some family business. Henry shows off his new title and makes a friend. Ethan can't get over Vanessa. Dr. Seward is Dr. Seward. Renfield isn't okay. Frogs are everywhere.

** Episode 1 **

 -

_Death stands above me,_

** Henry  **

Dr. Jekyll… _No, that isn’t me any longer I’m Lord Hyde, the English accepting of my status or no._ He thought with pride as he sat in the conference hall. A scientific convention of sorts, a drudgery, someone had discovered some boring mathematical equation in which frogs produced eggs. _It doesn’t matter._ He was there to see if the looks changed, from disgust, to acceptance with his new found status.

If there were murmurs or whisperings about him in the scientific community now that he was –“And so the female frog swims-“ Henry tapped his foot impatiently and loud enough so others glanced in his direction.

“Do you believe that anyone genuinely cares about your silly little frog mating rituals Dr. Parison?” A woman’s voice – something unnatural in a scientific hall. Everyone went silent as church mice. Henry turned his head to see the woman behind the voice. She approached the front with purposeful and rhythmic steps edging closer and closer to the podium of which Dr. Parison stood.

“This is an important biological discovery a woman wouldn’t understand that will change how we perceive amphibia- who let you in-" Dr. Parison scanned the room for support but he only found bafflement. The woman, older, yet still handsome with her blonde hair fading into gray stood next to him.

“I,” she paused waiting for the clamor to die down. “I am Dr. Moreau.” She said projecting her voice. “Dr. Georgina Moreau, I take it you’ve read my papers, they are, so I’ve heard, all over London.” _She's right in a sense_. Henry had seen her papers talked of. Not in any good way however. They were mocked, ridiculed, picked apart. Labelled crude gore riddled fantasies of an unnatural and rambling pervert. 

“It is impossible that you are Dr. Moreau.” A well reputed doctor of biology declared. “A woman is too soft for science, and furthermore the papers written by Dr. Moreau are nothing but the fetishizing of vivisection. In fact, I would say that Dr. Moreau is not a Doctor at all but a fraud.” There were sounds of agreement that began rising louder and louder until the supposed Doctor held up her hand.

“I am a Doctor, I shall have you know,” There was a newfound harshness to her voice and with that harshness her French accent surfaced. “If you believe me such a fraud, that is your prerogative, but if you are, say, _enchantés_ …” she erased the meticulous graph Dr. Parison wrote on the board while he simpered and struggled to stop her from writing in bold white letters a date, time, and address.Henry knew the only reason she was permitted to intrude at all relied on the fact she did interrupt the dullest man in the world of science blathering about frog reproduction. “ _Ce sera moi_.” she underlined  Tuesday _._

“Madame, I will ask you to leave immediately before I have you extracted from the premise.” Dr. Park with his lush beard stood, locking arms cross his chest like he was the stern all knowing father rectifying all the wrongs and she the foolish little girl. Henry swore Dr. Moreau’s eyes lingered over him for the briefest of moments before she turned her attentions back to Dr. Park.

“Then I shall leave. I wish you all good evening gentlemen.” She pushed Dr. Park out of her way before leaving with a confident stride. As if she decided to leave rather than demanded to do so. No one settled down after that, and Henry’s lordship seemed petty, even to himself, if only for a brief moment.

**__ **

_Whispering low_

** Ethan **

 “What are we going to do about him?” The four stared down at Renfield. Shackled throat to ankle. Like an animal not a man. After seeing that boy Fenton, go through this... _No information is worth this man's suffering._ _It would be a mercy, and God knows I've been cruel._  Ethan's hand reached for his gun.  

“I still believe he may know more of Dracula.” Dr. Seward said looking at the trembling man. “And could show me more.” Sir Malcolm nodded.

“If he escapes, we must kill him swiftly, before he notifies his master.” said Catriona Hartdegen who stuck the dagger back in the sheath on her belt with enthusiasm.

 _What’s the point?_ Ethan thought absorbing the scene. _None of it will bring Vanessa back, nor Hecate, nor Sembene, nor Brona…nor my sister, nor my mother –_

“That’s enough for now, Dr. Seward I suggest you come back in the morning, he seems more susceptible to your methods then. Ethan, won’t you show the ladies out?” Sir Malcolm looked towards 

“No need, I know the way,” Catriona said bounding up the stairs. The thanatologist appeared more than eager to leave.  Ethan and Dr. Seward followed after at a far more subdued pace.

“You’re still upset about her,” Dr. Steward said.

Ethan paused. Feeling his fists forming.  _Of course I am. I could have-_ “It’s only been a month since Dr. Steward."

“And yet your coping mechanisms seem inherently lacking.”

“Thank you but, I have, no interest in therapy Dr. Seward.” Ethan said they bid each other and Catriona good night. And finally, Ethan could breathe. His fists unfurled and instead preoccupied them with locking the door.  

“You did it again,” Sir Malcolm started as he always did.

“Don’t,” Ethan muttered running a hand through his hair. Ethan vaulted past Murray, his destination was the same as always, Vanessa's bedroom.  Sir Malcolm, however, managed to grab Ethan's arm haulting the wolfman's retreat.

“Not tonight, the full moon-”

“I’ll be down in the cellar...in a moment, it’s not even dark out.” Malcolm relinquished Ethan's arm and he headed up the stairs. 

Ethan stared at his gun then at a wall. _No, **the** Wall._ He pinned Vanessa there, he exorcised her demons and held her after.  _If I just shot her then…_ His gun found its way into his hands. The barrel towards himself.  _She wouldn't have suffered._ _I wouldn’t feel as if this were the lone option. I wouldn’t have suffered, I would have never felt…_ He let out a shaken breath something was off. He shook the gun, noticing how light it felt. Ethan cursed, chucked the gun across the room and slammed the door.

_Murray took the fucking bullets._

 -

_I know not what_

** Victor **

In a perverse way, Victor was gleeful. Victor’s wretched father had died and he was off to see if he received any inheritance at all. He doubted any would come his way, nay, that would all be for Alphonse his eldest brother that could do no wrong in the eyes of his father. He hadn’t been home since he left for university. And that felt ages ago. No doubt, in his time away, another Alphonse had made its way into the world. Victor had thought of working as a doctor for the living often now and to abandon death until it kissed him. He wasn’t certain what to do with his life. But as his carriage arrived at the estate, he was welcomed by the face of a few familiar staff who prepared a room for him.

Victor skipped pleasantries and went straight to the purpose of his arrival. “Where is William?” He always preferred William of his three elder brothers. William was the least surly at least when Alphonse or Isaac weren’t around.

“Sir…he died, in the war, his funeral was over a year ago now.” The groundsman said hauling his trunk.

Victor’s façade fell. “Died?”

“Sorry, sir, but your brothers tried to contact you, they did,” He placed Victor’s trunk in his room.

“I understand, I was rather difficult to find, what did he die of, my father and nephew?”

“He was rather weak for a few years, he got the sickness, you know, from that fog finally sent him to heaven. With your mother and his grandson, that dust got little Alphonse too." The groundsman sounded grieved bringing the matter up. "Good little lad he was." 

Victor furrowed his brow. _That fog never left London did it?_  “They were…”

“In London at the time sir.” He finished off the obligatory chores before heading towards the door.

 _These people hold no love for me._ Victor looked around the room. It was barren, not as he left it. Any bobbles, notes, or toys that he possessed were vanquished from the room.  “Yes, that’s lovely.” He replied not caring if it made him sound callous at this point. “If you would excuse me I should want time alone.”

The man nodded before ducking out. _No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man._ “Heraclitus…” Victor murmured. _Or was it Pythagoras?_ Victor didn’t have quite the same passion in the ancients as he used to. He scarcely remembered his nephew. A little thing, he never held the fifth Alphonse. And he was just born right as Victor left for university. They were all so happy about it, they did not seem to care that Victor left. He felt his hands quiver. _Just another dose, I’ll pardon myself for this trip. I should need it if I desire to preserve my sanity._

Victor took the syringe filled of morphine and injected in one of his last visible veins on his shaky right hand.

- 

_Into my ear_

** Gertrude **

As a widow of a policeman, she was allowed certain…privileges. And most seemed rather charmed by her wrinkled smile, they were ignorant to the fact she was robbing them. _Well, not a true robbery, it’s more of an assistance. Like a wife who corrects a tax return before it is submitted unbeknownst to the husband._ The morbidity of the case fascinated Gertrude. That, and the fact she was convinced, the murder from last night was related. Another woman, torn to pieces and that which made her female removed with a macabre precision.

All she did was slip the case file in her carpet bag. “Mrs Gladden?” A shout came from down the hall and a young detective burst in.

“Oh, yes I do believe I got lost,” Mrs. Gladden said snapping the bag shut. 

“You shouldn’t be back here.”

She gave a knowing chuckle. “I just, remember so well, my husband you know would work here sometimes all night and I would stow treats in here for him should he feel peckish...strange how, it all looks just the same still."  _Not that the old bastard could detect a giraffe if it were sat across the table from him._

“He was well loved, Ma’am, I knew him briefly, but his deductive skills are still admired.” The youthful detective said linking an arm with her. She never bothered to know his name. They rounded the corner together and came upon Colin Bricker rather suddenly. 

“Mrs Gladden?” Colin asked. 

“I don’t know how she got in there. I swore it was locked, sir.” The boy blathered trying to worm his way out of any potential punishment. Gertrude looked up at Colin who avoided her gaze.

“One of you lot must have left it open. Door was swinging in the breeze when I went in.” She said. Mrs. Gladden did this witless song and dance she thought she was done with some fifteen years ago. Her husband had left her no money it all went to the church. -A last minute convert to the Church of England after years of booze, gambling, and sins. The rest of his money was snatched away from those he owed it to. Leaving Mrs. Gladden destitute.  So now, Mrs. Gladden relied on the good nature of Colin an older detective with a fat grey mustache who discovered Mr and Mrs Gladden's secret. Gertrude would receive a stipend in exchange for solving cases or interviewing suspects in ways that the detectives weren't always able. 

“The wife would love to have you over for dinner this evening Mrs Gladden,” Colin said.

This jumble of words translated to something along the lines of _tell me your findings._  Gertrude’s smiled her thin lips taut.

“Of course she would, my dearest creature.” 

Strolling through the piss stained streets of London and back home she opened the file. A leftover from a Detective Rusk  _Suspect: Ethan Chandler aka Ethan Talbot._ **Resolved _._**

Although, that didn't sit well with her Earl Grey. _This seemed not a case of a brutal gunslinger, nay this was a mad surgeon,_ She thought sifting through the contacts, friends, associates that Rusk had documented in his inquests. One name in particular stood out to her.  _Dr. Victor Frankenstein_.

She knew of the Frankenstein family in passing. Isaac Frankenstein was an established lawyer although he dealt with more estate issues rather than those of a criminal nature. Through Isaac Frankenstein, Mrs. Gladden was able to discover the Frankenstein residence.  _It would pay to learn more of the young Doctor._ She mused taking another sip. Mrs. Gladden sorted the piles of papers and decided that was enough research for the day. _But first I must dine with the hellions._

 -

_Of his strange language_

** Lily  **

She was going home. _Brona’s home._ Lily felt as if she were a different person, no longer a scared girl hiding behind bawdy jokes and sustaining on hard liquor. And nor was she ever. But Lily felt compelled in an odd manner to fulfill Brona’s childhood dream of becoming a nun _. That dream became a whisper when Brona was raped behind the church by a filthy worm of a man. A few shillings thrown at her when he was finished using her._

Perhaps becoming a nun would help, not that Lily had great faith in the Catholics. Women of all sorts became nuns and perhaps give her a platform to help. And she was in a position to help where other women might not be able. _Immortality and Strength._ Brona knew a sweet nun who gave her food when she starved, cloth when her back was bare.  Lily decided it must now come to herself who must protect them. She stood on the deck, looking out to the waters, and remembered how hopeful Brona was coming to London. How she dressed her best and flirted away with the sailors even fucking one to sleep in a comfier cabin.

The chill was on Lily’s face but her face but her body was one ever resistant to the elements. The rest of the passengers and crew seemed to leave her be after she denied feeling cold. There was an odd feeling, she hadn’t had in quite some time. It took her till the shores of Ireland were in sight. _I’m nervous._

_-_

_All I know_

** Florence  **

“Renfield,” Dr. Seward said in an even tone to her patient. Her most peculiar patient. One she would have scoffed at the existence of if she hadn’t seen the man consuming the flesh of frogs in her office.

“You have become a dear friend, Dr. Seward," Renfield said in a gentle way. 

“And, you would divulge secrets to a dear friend, relating to Dracula, where is he Renfield?”

“I don’t…I don’t know Doctor.” He was scared, fear-struck like a rabbit in the sights of it's predator.

“The wolf, he frightens me might I stay elsewhere?” Ethan needed to be shackled near Renfield. They couldn’t trust Renfield enough not to escape. So there the vampire was kept in the basement of Sir Malcolm Murray. “It’s so cold, the world is without the Mother of Darkness.”

 _There he goes._ Dr. Seward noted reaching for her journal. “Renfield I need you to focus on Dracula.”

“Focus, focus, I can’t, Doctor, he’s everywhere, focus on all the fleshy frog legs, focus on all the ants on a hill, I can’t I can’t mother he’s too big. He’s too big.” Renfield let out haphazard fits of giggles.

“Calm yourself Renfield.”

“I can feel him, hand on my breast, tongue at my neck, eyes in mine, can’t you?” Renfield continued rambling. His chains rattled as he gesticulated. 

Dr. Seward turned round facing Malcolm. “That’s all I’m going to get out of him for today, Ethan overstimulated him last night.” She collected her belongings annoyed with the waste of time Dr. Seward spent travelling to the Murray Manor. 

“-His form, Mother. His form you’ve never seen anything more awful.”

“I can’t secure him upstairs.” Sir Malcolm said.

“Then I cannot secure further information on Dracula.” Dr. Steward snapped. Plucking the corpse of a frog from the basket and threw it at Renfield's fingers. “He was doing better before Ethan needed to be contained. The one other place I can imagine that would take him is a lunatic asylum.”

They were beginning to move towards the sitting room. “We can’t have him infect anyone.”

“If Miss Hartedagen is to be believed he cannot infect another, Renfield can only kill them.” Sir Malcolm poured her a glass of whiskey before sitting across from her.

“You say that as if death is trivial. Dr. Steward.” Sir Malcolm assessed a curious look came over his face. 

“It doesn’t take much to kill someone Sir Malcolm. You don’t need vampirism to do that.” _All you need, is a will and a way._ Dr. Seward thought taking another sip. Sir Malcolm had horrible taste in whiskey.

- 

_Is_

** Victor  **

The funeral was adequate. Victor supposed. Alphonse III and Alphonse V had many more people in attendance to share condolences than Miss Ives had. Victor's eldest brother and the presumed heir to the estate Alphonse IV, had a wife, Winifred and two other children besides Alphonse V, Flora and Miles who were inconsolable during the whole proceedings. Winifred kept the children indoors and away from the family plot because of their loud and snotty grievances. 

The second eldest Frankenstein son, Isaac, donned a well structured suit of a lawyer. His brother Isaac did not look distraught, rather he seemed to be flitting from socialite to socialite, making contacts an acquaintances, handing out business cards. Alphonse looked far more shaken by the ordeal, his eyes visibly glossed over on the brink of tears. Victor's eyes bored into the family plot. It looked so full compared to when he left. _Two more names added_. Victor didn't feel present, as if he walked in on the third act of a play with no knowledge of the two previous acts.

_Father was always kind, in a backhanded sort of way. A Christian god-fearing way which forbade him from having even a dream of a rational conversation._

"Dr. Victor Frankenstein you have my condolences." Victor's head raised not recognizing the old withered woman in a frumpy burgundy coat ahead of him.

"They're appreciated. Mrs..."

"Gladden."

"Mrs. Gladden, if you'll excuse me."

"What do you know of women being murdered in the streets of London, boy?" Her volume increased, like he was hard of hearing. "There was a murder, just four nights ago, you wouldn't happen to have an alibi would you?"

"I was here."

"You say that, but I have talked to the groundsman, he says you just arrived three nights ago. You wouldn't be lying-"

"I haven't murdered anyone. And I don't know who you claim to be Madame but-"

"Victor, making a scene, as always." Victor saw Isaac approach. "If you have private matters, do it elsewhere, don't sully the memories of our family with your  _work_ brother." His brother looked at Mrs. Gladden head to toe then back at Victor. "Remove her from the premise." 

"Oh, I won't be a bother," Mrs. Gladden said. "I'll excuse myself now." Isaac left with the same speed he approached the pair. "You'll come with me boy, if you don't want law enforcement to come retrieve you."

Victor didn't see the point in staying and feigning grief. At least correcting a senile old woman he would be  "Where's your husband Madame?" "I'm not certain, he wasn't ever the godly type you know. Well, not until he was laid on his back in his deathbed. Perhaps God overlooked his flaws." 

Victor smiled, though it looked more like he was baring his teeth. "I shall go to the station and clear my name. That is all. Allow me to gather my belongings." 

Within the hour Victor joined Mrs. Gladden in a carriage set back for London. - He almost preferred it to staying in the company of his brothers. _Almost._

-

_There is not a word of fear._

** Henry **

Henry would have written down the address and date had it not been seared so crisply in his skull for the past five days. A late Tuesday evening, the shipping docks were full of suspect characters with hunched shoulders, smoke puffing from their mouths and an occasional slur directed towards him. 

He arrived whole, at the ship and saw a man with a wide brimmed hat and peculiar features stare at him. "Lord Hyde." The short fellow said as though words were a pain to deliver. "Dr. Moreau is expecting you." The night had masked the strange man's face but Henry paid no mind. Trailing behind the simpleton he came to the belly of the ship. A primitive laboratory of sorts set up inside wiring covered the walls, a generator pumped soft, a sheet was over a small body on the table in the center of the room. Dr. Moreau sat at a desk reviewing notes before standing to greet Dr. Jekyll. 

"I don't think any of your colleagues should show." Dr. Moreau said.

"Enough, I'm not here to speak of gossip, I am here to see if the rumors hold strong."

"I am the mother of such  _rumors_ but if your patience fails you even now, Lord Hyde. I'm afraid it will fail to sustain you through the procedure I shall perform this evening."

"That depends on how impressive it is." Henry said wringing his fingers. She pulled back the sheet. 

A large and living fatty frog bound by each limb and round the belly was revealed. _One of Dr. Parison's_  Henry imagined. The short fellow went up the stairs exiting the laboratory.

"There is, I have found, very little that separates the human from the animal. Lord Hyde, no matter how inhuman the animal appears. It can take form, it can evolve, it can change. If in the hands of the correct Doctor naturally." She took a scalpel with her steady hand to the head of the tethered creature.

Henry's breath was heavy. His eyes fixed with rapt, impatient interest. And Dr. Moreau delivered her findings though the process did take most of the night. The results were astounding.  _I never thought a frog could scream like that._ Henry thought.  _I never thought I would find another, so invested in science as I, a woman none the less._ No doubt it was morning before she decided the process was complete. 

There she stood, blood covered the apron she wore, her hair pulled back in a tight knot to avoid splatter. The weak creature made mewls and shallow breaths no longer struggling and no longer resisting. "I've shown you mine, now, I suppose it's time for you to share yours, Lord Hyde." A mutual understanding and acceptance was realized in those moments, as true students of science and the ways of the world. 

"Of course, my friend, I should show you everything I've found. Tomorrow evening." 

\--- 

**Author's Note:**

> Death stands above me, whispering low by Walter Savage Landor  
> NOT MY POEM.  
> 'Gertrude Gladden' is loosely inspired by the protagonist in The Female Detective by James Redding Ware. Dr. Moreau is taken from The Island of Dr. Moreau by H.G. Wells. Obviously the characters are not as they were from their respective books.


End file.
